Papa Died 50 Years Ago Today

02Jul

I still remember the day I learned of Hemingway’s death. It was such a shock. I was in high school and had only recently discovered his books. My fascination with novels began with Jules Verne’s The Journey to the Center of the Earth and The Mysterious Island. From there I moved on to Edgar Rice Burroughs and ultimately to John Steinbeck and Ernest Hemingway.

The first Hemingway book I read was The Old Man and the Sea. I was blown away with the greatness of the story and the simplicity of the writing, both Papa trademarks. That led to For Whom the Bell Tolls (which ironically I was reading when I learned of his death),A Farewell to Arms, and all the wonderful short stories, which I keep on my iPad. You can learn a lot by re-reading them from time to time.

That Hemingway abused alcohol and was depressed and probably bipolar is fairly well known. His depression had apparently worsened in the months before his death. It is rumored that he could no longer write, not even a single sentence. Whether this is true or not is unknown but for him the inability to create that perfect sentence would have been maddening. He who slaved over every sentence, every phrase, every word. It is probably what led to his placing a double-barreled shotgun to his forehead and pulling the trigger on the morning of July 2, 1961.

John Walsh has now written an interesting piece on Hemingway’s psychological spiral and the things that led to his suicide. For any Hemingway fan it is interesting reading.

I once was assigned to transport a visiting Superior Court judge from our city to his home overlooking the Chesapeake Bay (he’d presided over a case as a visiting judge). It was after a long trial and a long day in court so I’m sure it was a bit relaxing for him to sit back and not have to worry with traffic for a couple of hours.

Anyway, during the long drive the judge expressed his fascination with Hemingway and we soon found ourselves in a discussion about The Old Man and The Sea. The judge learned of my interest in writing and encouraged me to pursue the dream. When we finally arrived at his place – the view was absolutely gorgeous – he got out of my police car and turned to me and said, “Son, don’t let a police report be the last thing you write.” I’ve never forgotten his words.

One of my favorite Hemingway pieces is a short story that is too seldom mentioned, “Hills Like White Elephants.” I think that story speaks volumes about the man, his passions and even his latent demons. The man was brilliant.

I loved The Old Man and the Sea and others. About two years ago I read in another literary blog about the short story, Hills Like White Elephants. The story is entertaining and thought provoking, but more than anything it certifies Hemingway as a genius.

There is a telephone commercial where the man says, “It was the white elephant in the room.” Mixing metaphors! I remember studying Hills Like White Elephants in high school. I learned what a white elephant party is and have come to the conclusion that my mother in law is a white elephant giver. It is a simple thing Jig.

Hemingway is a favorite of mine. For Whom the Bell Tolls is my personal favorite.